


Someone Who Makes You Happy

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanoff, Not Canon Compliant, Scars, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-03-26 15:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Peter was born with several marks already marring his skin, including an interlocking AES over his heart.A scar-sharing soulmate AU.





	Someone Who Makes You Happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarkRavingSpiders (GabesGurl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabesGurl/gifts).



> Recip, I heard you like soulmate AUs and hurt/comfort. I hope you enjoy this run at your prompt! ♥
> 
> Thank you so much to Duckmoles for your help and your encouragement! Also to LearnedFoot for being willing to listen to me go on about things even when the Venn diagram of interests does not overlap.
> 
> Content notes in the end notes. Also, a rec. Despite being a soulmate AU, this holds to canon in a number of ways. That said, EG and IW and their events hold no power here. There are a few other major changes in the background, too.
> 
> Redating for author reveals. Sorry if you somehow see this twice!
> 
> Personal notes: OPD: 5/29, AOD: 6/20.

This was what Peter knew about his soulmate starting from a very young age: they were older than he was and they came from a traditional family.

Peter was born with several marks already marring his skin, including an interlocking AES over his heart. His mom always made this face whenever she saw it, eyes drawn, lips pressed thin, before she papered it over with a cheerful smile. Peter hadn't really understood it at the time, but when he got older, he realized that it wasn't that she had a problem with his soulmate; it was that she was angry on his soulmate's behalf.

Mostly he realized because of that time she found him with a kitchen knife and a compact mirror he'd retrieved from her purse one day after kindergarten. He was sitting on the checkered linoleum floor with the tip pressed into his skin just hard enough to dent, trying to figure out if he wanted his own initials, just learned, to go above or below his soulmate's own.

Mary went pale and grabbed his wrist hard enough to bruise, before gentling her grip at his flinch. She didn't let go.

"We don't do that," Mary said. "There are registries for natural scars, and you can use them when you're old enough if you want to. But this family _doesn't do that_."

"They'll be able to find me?" Peter asked.

"Yes. If they want to, they'll be able to find you.  Or maybe you'll find them."

Mary hugged him, and they'd talked about Peter's marks and soulmates in general and how Mary had met Richard. Richard came home to find them on the kitchen floor, knife pushed out of Peter's reach. Richard put it in the sink, and they didn't discuss it further. But it was weeks before either left him alone for more than five minutes at a time.

—

May and Ben weren't soulmates, but they were in love. May's was a retired schoolteacher in Omaha with three kids. Ben's had never turned up. They told Peter all about it when he asked, seven years old and confused by the scar across Ben's hand that wasn't mirrored on May's.

"It's potential, not a promise," May said.

"I say the universe gets it wrong sometimes," Ben said with a wink. He had an arm slung around May on the couch. "May and I were definitely made for each other."

"More importantly, we chose each other." May pressed a kiss to Ben's cheek and settled a little more firmly into his side. Peter snuggled into the throw pillow he had in the arm chair. "Whether you find your match or someone else entirely, choose someone who makes you happy."

Peter really hoped that whoever AES was, they could make each other as happy as May and Ben.

—

When Peter was eight years old, he lost the AES on his chest. The entire area went white, like the old man on the floor below them whose soulmate had lost an arm.

"It's a ghost arm," Mr. Miller had explained when Peter, too young to know better, had asked about it. Mr Miller had held his much darker hand up in contrast. "She lost hers, and mine remembers that for us both."

Peter wasn't sure how you got a ghost chest, like a hole had opened up. If AES had died, there wouldn't be a scar; all the marks would be gone, Peter's skin just the normal shade provided by melatonin once more. There were other marks radiating out from it. It was weird. Peter wasn't sure he liked it.

But he had no more control over it than he'd had over the AES in the first place.

—

He gained a few more marks over the years, tiny burns and little nicks, the occasional gash or slash mark. The white on his chest turned into a regular scar, first the red of stitching around new skin and eventually the white of a faded scar. It was weird. AES was a mystery in more ways than one.

—

When Peter met Tony Stark, he was looking, but he wasn't really _looking_. He was focused on the fact that the famous and infamous Tony Stark was in his living room. Then he was focused on the fact that Tony Stark knew he was Spider-Man, wanted him to come to Germany, and might tell Aunt May about everything Peter had been up to for the last six months.

Getting Tony out of the webbing where Peter had stuck him to the door, Peter was able to see that up close that Tony had the faintest of scars on his cheek, about the same place Peter had one of his own. He saw it, but he didn't really notice. He wasn't paying attention.

In Peter's defense, Tony wasn't paying attention, either.

—

When Peter was sixteen, he asked Tony about it. They were at a benefit Tony was throwing, but the Avengers had all been invited to, including Peter, who wasn't a full Avenger yet. Tony brought it up first, smiling wistfully at Pepper Potts being swept across the dance floor by Natasha Romanoff.

"In another life, I think I might have married one of them. Dated maybe. Had a really fantastic one night stand, at least." Then he did a double-take at Peter standing at his elbow instead of whoever Tony thought he was talking to.

"You think one of them could've been your soulmate?" Peter asked, curious.

"Okay, first off, never repeat that I said any of that to Nat. Mentor-mentee relationship trumps whatever spider solidarity the two of you have going. Second, absolutely not." Tony took a sip of his drink. "I don't have a soulmate."

"Really?" Peter asked. He wasn't tactful about it. "But everyone has a soulmate."

"Then mine died before I was ever born." Tony waved a hand down his body. "Born without a mark. Checked every day for twenty years. Not so much as a poorly healed papercut."

"I'm sorry," Peter said.

"I'm not." Tony smiled again. It wasn't so wistful this time. "Not all of us are soulmate material. It's a relief, actually. Who'd want this mess?"

"I think anyone would be lucky to have you," Peter said, staunch, steadfast.

"That's sweet, kid." Tony patted him on the shoulder. "But it's not going to get you out of combat practice in the morning."

—

Before the Spider-Man thing, Peter hadn't really done much to collect scars of his own. Maybe he'd picked up a couple tiny ones over the course of his childhood, but taken as a whole, there weren't any he could really point to and definitively say, "Oh, yeah, that one's mine."

After the Spider-Man thing, Peter didn't scar anymore, all his wounds healing over smoothly. If he'd ever wanted to change his mind and contravene one of his parents' last wishes, he had lost his chance. There was no PBP heart mark in his future, just the hope that his soulmate would be in one of the databases or matching services Peter was planning to sign up to the instant he was eligible.

Now that he was eighteen, that was all of them, and Peter was going to take advantage. Why he was doing this in the Avengers Compound instead of at home was for a bunch of reasons, but the biggest one boiled down to he needed someone to hold the camera, and he didn't want to make May do it. Her soulmate had passed away recently, and even if they'd never done more than exchange Christmas and birthday cards, Peter didn't want to stir up any sad feelings about it all.

"Why," came Tony's voice from the door to the lab, "did F.R.I.D.A.Y. alert me that you were getting naked in the lab and sexually harassing the bots?"

"I'm not naked and I'm not sexually harassing them," Peter protested as he skimmed out of his jeans.

"Oh, I'm sorry, getting mostly naked." Tony leaned against the jamb, but Peter had lost his body consciousness somewhere between gaining a six pack seemingly overnight and changing in alleyways in broad daylight when he was fourteen. "So what's the story, Magic Mike?"

"I needed someone to hold the camera." Peter pointed at where he had Dum-E holding the camera. "And Dum-E's always happy to help. Aren't you, boy?"

"For the last time, they aren't pets, and Dum-E's older than you are."

"Then he shouldn't be scandalized by a little skin." Despite what Tony said, Dum-E rolled closer like he was hopeful there would be more patting in his future. Peter provided it.

"You don't get to use my bots for dick pics or making duck faces to post on whatever the current equivalent is of Myspace."

"What's Myspace?" Peter asked. He changed Dum-E's angle, then shifted around so that Dum-E could capture the line across his hip. "And I wasn't—it's not like that. I'm documenting my marks for a national database."

"It was the precursor to Facebook." Tony came in the lab. He still wasn't looking at Peter. "Give me the camera. I'll help."

Peter knew his expression was doubtful, not that Tony could appreciate the full effect. "You can't even look at me. You'd think you hadn't seen plenty of naked people in your time."

"Excuse you, it's still my time. And I have, enough that I don't need to see more I'm not sleeping with. I'm respecting your privacy. Some people get weird about their marks, though less so since naming ceremonies have fallen out of fashion."

"I had initials," Peter confirmed. "They disappeared when I was eight, though, and I never really cared if anyone saw."

Tony finally looked. The easy amusement on his face slid off as he saw Peter's chest. The blood drained from his face. "Peter. What's that?"

Peter drummed his fingers against the scars. "What I have instead of initials."

"That’s definitely identifying," Tony croaked.

"It's not that bad." Peter _hadn't_ been body conscious, but that might change if Tony kept looking at him like that. "It didn't hurt or anything."

"Oh, trust me, it hurt." Tony paced closer. He reached out a hand, almost like he was going to touch Peter, then let it drop. "You don't need those pictures."

"What?" Except Peter didn't need to ask. It was written all over Tony's face.

He peered closely at Peter's face like he was looking for something. This time, when he reached out, he connected, fingers brushing over Peter's cheek, tracing the faint scar there.

"Staring right back at me this whole time." Tony suddenly jerked his hand back. "Right." His voice was cheerful. He was smiling. He looked like he was about to have a breakdown. "Well, if you don't need my help after all—"

"I want to see," Peter said.

Tony shook his head. "We can't all be exhibitionists." He took a step back. Another. It was a rapid retreat. "Sorry, but I just need to—did you hear that? I definitely heard something. Was that a dog barking? A baby crying? Maybe it was an alarm. I should go check it out."

"Mr. Stark—"

"I'll see you later," Tony said firmly. He backed his way all the way up to the door and went darting through.

Peter was left in the lab, mostly naked, Dum-E nudging at his side with the camera. Peter had found his AES.

Keeping him was another matter entirely.

—

By the time Peter was dressed, Tony was locked in his personal rooms in the compound. Peter suspected it would've been the labs if Tony hadn't started his flight from there.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., would you tell Mr. Stark I'm outside?" Peter asked.

"He's aware," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., would you tell Mr. Stark I'm not going away until he talks to me?" Peter said.

"You may be waiting some time," F.R.I.D.A.Y. cautioned him.

"I can be patient," Peter said. Pointedly, he sat in front of the door. Eventually, his patience was rewarded.

"What part of later did you not understand?" Tony asked.

"It's later." Peter stood. "You don't have to show me, but can we talk?"

Tony sighed. He stood back from the door. "Fine. Let's talk." He gestured Peter inside, then slouched in after him. There was a bottle and a glass on the coffee table. Tony dropped on the couch in front of it, picked up the glass, and filled it from the bottle. His movements were loose. It didn't look like that was his first refill. "I'll start. First off, an apology. I don't know what you were hoping for, but I'm sure it wasn't," Tony gestured, a small bit of whiskey slopping over the side of the glass he was holding like a lifeline, "this."

"I'm not disappointed," Peter said quietly.

"You should be." Tony's voice was sharp. He sighed. Softer, "You really should be. You deserve better. The universe must've made a mistake."

Peter settled on the couch beside Tony. "I think I lucked out."

"Do you really need me to run down all the ways that this is highly inappropriate?" Tony took a large gulp of his drink. "How poorly suited I am to being anyone's anything?"

"I think you could be perfectly suited for me," Peter said, because no matter how May and Ben's story had worked out, no matter the marks on Peter's skin, in the years Peter had known Tony, Tony had made him very, very happy. Peter reached out and nudged the side of Tony's left hand, resting on the cushion, with his right. He linked their pinky fingers together. "I think we could make each other happy."

"Peter." Tony's voice was tired. He pulled his hand away. "I can't even make myself happy."

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough." Peter stood. Tony's face was drawn. The lines at the corners of his mouth and across his forehead cut deep. "I can't make you do anything. It's your choice if you don't want to pursue this. But if I could have chosen anyone in the world? It would have been you. It would still be you." Peter looked away. "That's all. What I wanted to tell you."

Tony had nothing to say to that. Peter walked away, but he paused at the door.

"Even though—" Peter paused. He swallowed. It felt like there was something stuck in his throat. "I get it if you don't want to try, but please don't shut me out or, or push me away. Even if we weren't soulmates, you've always been important to me."

"Good night, Peter," Tony said. It sounded final.

"Good night, Mr. Stark," Peter said.

He let himself out. His eyes burned, but he didn't cry. It was early yet, and Peter wasn't giving up. Maybe this wasn't the reaction he'd hoped for from his soulmate, but Tony probably needed time to adjust. It was an adjustment for Peter, too.

—

Sometimes, Peter wondered what the world would be like without soulmates, if everyone had been like May and Ben, either without guidance or outright rejecting it.

He thought some people would be happier. Tony might have had an easier time of it if he hadn't spent entire decades thinking he was even more alone than your average person. Maybe Steve wouldn't have fallen out quite so spectacularly with everyone if he hadn't had the drive of a soulmate he'd spent most of the time he was out of the ice trying to chase, to track back down.

On the whole, though, Peter thought people would probably rather know than not. Pepper and Natasha seemed really happy. His parents had always said the only day that matched the joy of meeting one another was the day Peter was born.

Peter certainly appreciated the confirmation that how he felt about Tony wasn't just some sort of misplaced hero worship, or that if it were, it had the potential to be something more. He wasn't alone in thinking they could have something good if only they tried. The universe was on his side.

—

The first couple of days were the hardest. Peter kept hoping that any moment, Tony would change his mind, would see how good they could be for each other. The next few were also hard, Peter convinced that Tony would get over it and come swanning back into Peter's life, ready to take back up the mantle of mentor if nothing else. By the time he'd been through two weeks of radio silence, Peter was resigned. The universe had meant for them to be together, but that very fact had messed it up.

It hurt, but Peter sucked it up. Life wasn't fair, and he couldn't make Tony love him. That AES had never been a guarantee.

He just—

He wished Tony would look at him again, the few times they were in a room together. He wished Tony would talk to him again, even if it was with the sense that he saw Peter as a kid and always would. He wished they could go back to the weeks and months before Peter turned eighteen, when Tony had looked at a teenager from Queens and decided yeah, that one would make Avengers material given a little time and training.

He wished he could go back in time to before he knew that AES was Anthony Edward Stark.

—

"You're distracted," Natasha said after she took him to the mat for the third time in a row. "That'll get you killed."

"When? It's not like you guys take me on missions with you."

Natasha offered him her hand, and he took it, accepting the help up. "We didn't." She smiled slightly. "You weren't old enough."

"That's—that's past tense you're using right now," Peter said, feeling a spark of excitement.

"You turned eighteen. Old enough to vote, old enough to join the Avengers for real." Natasha raised her hands in front of her. "You just need to prove you're ready for the field. Show me how much you want it, Peter."

When Peter was taken to the mat a fourth time, Natasha's smile was wider.

"Better." Natasha held out a hand. Peter took it. "Again."

Peter went again. He went down again. He kept getting up. Story of his life, really.

—

Some guy from Latveria had decided to take over the world, or at least New York City. There were robots wearing cloaks that he'd apparently made as stand-ins or body doubles flying around and terrorizing people. They weren't actually that capable, but they were annoying, and that was before they started exploding.

"No one say it," Tony said over the comms.

"I can't believe your world protection plan got ripped off by a megalomaniac with an eye toward world domination," Rhodey said.

"I can't believe we didn't see this sooner," Natasha said.

"This is reminding me a lot of Stark Expo," Peter said. "I'm having flashbacks to when I was nine."

"Actually," and Peter could hear the smile in Rhodey's voice, "I can see that. Tony, how does it feel to know that you were riffing off of Hammer?"

"Excuse me, but first of all, Hammer was copying  _me_. Secondly, I resent any and all implications that I had anything to do with inspiring this, this absolute travesty of an attempt at making AI-controlled robots. That Doombot is trying to fight a lamp post. _A lamp post_. And—is anyone else seeing this? That one just tripped over its own cloak."

"The catch phrases are fun, though," Peter offered as one Doombot called out, "Meet your doom."

"Don't encourage them," Tony said.

Peter didn't say, "Speaking of encouragement," though he thought it really hard. He didn't draw any attention to the fact that Tony was talking to him again. He webbed up Doombot after Doombot and stayed back from exploding distance. At least, he stayed back from exploding distance until they pulled a new trick from their collective hats.

"Did you know the Doombots could fly?" Peter asked. "I did not know they could fly. This is, um—little help here?"

Peter ran a line and tried to swing away, but an entire flock of them matched him move for move.

"Doom is upon you," one called out, and then they went up. Peter also briefly went up, the force of the explosion flinging him higher in the air, and then he was falling, falling, disoriented and unable to catch himself.

Vision was there before Peter could hit the ground. His arms were gentle around Peter as he caught him, first dropping with him, then lifting. "You required assistance?"

"Thanks, V." Peter patted Vision on the shoulder. He made the mistake of looking down. He had no problem with the distance to the ground—Peter was good with heights after years of webslinging—but the bits of metal sticking out of his own abdomen were really, really disconcerting. "Oh, that's—that's not good."

"I believe Spider-Man requires more assistance than I can provide." Vision changed direction. "I will be transporting him to the nearest hospital."

"No, no, we can probably just take it out." Peter attempted to do so. It didn't go so well.

"What's going on?" Tony asked. "Come on, talk to me."

"Spider-Man has the shrapnel of several Doombots lodged in his abdomen," Vision said.

"He has what?" Tony said.

"No one needed to know that," Peter said. His vision went grey as he managed to remove a piece the size of his pinky finger.

"We really needed to know that," Tony said. "Status update. Now. How much shrapnel are we talking here?"

"If you would desist," Vision said to Peter.

"You're right," Peter agreed. "Bad idea. I'm just going to take a little nap now. Just. Real quick. Wake me when it's time to arrest someone."

"Peter—" Tony said frantically.

Peter felt terrible. He was on the verge of passing out. It was the only excuse he had for the fact that his last words before letting himself go under were, "Oh, now you can talk to me."

—

"The upside to a healing factor like yours is that you can survive the sort of injuries that would kill your average human," Natasha said when Peter woke up. "The downside is that you heal around foreign debris and make surgery much more complicated than it needs to be."

"I did try to get it out," Peter said weakly. He felt muzzy, like he couldn't wake all the way up.

"And you don't stay under as long as you're supposed to. Please tell me you didn't wake up during your surgery."

Peter had some vague, horrific memories of what had to be nightmares. "I'd also like to believe that's true."

Natasha patted Peter's hand. Peter noticed that it was hooked up to an IV. "Well, it's not the worst first outing you could have had."

"Yeah. I didn't get a building dropped on me," Peter agreed.

"Why does that sound like you're speaking from experience?" Oh, that was a voice Peter hadn't expected. He turned his head to find Tony on his other side.

"Because I'm speaking from experience?"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "And here I thought the plane crash was bad enough."

"That was the same night," Peter said.

"How am I not littered with your scars?" Tony asked.

"Healing factor," Peter said cheerfully. "Speaking of, am I … in the hospital?"

"Private room," Natasha said. "We were going to move you to the Avengers Compound infirmary once you woke up."

"I'm awake," Peter said. "I don't need to go to the compound, though. I can go home and sleep it off."

"How often are you going home to sleep off injuries?" Tony asked in a dangerous voice.

"Tony," Natasha said warningly.

"Right. None of my business." Tony stood. He hesitated by the side of the bed. After a moment, he turned away. He waved a hand without looking back. "See you around."

Tony walked out.

Natasha sighed. "While I'm sure you could sleep it off, you're not going home. We didn't even let Steve do that."

Peter resigned himself to unnecessary fussing. "Okay. But for the record, even if you'd left it in, eventually everything would have pushed out on its own."

"You can tell me how you know that once you're settled in at the compound," Natasha said.

—

No one had asked Peter his opinion, but that was the point he understood that oh, Natasha was kind of his new mentor now. She'd helped him a lot on hand-to-hand over the years. Everyone had pitched in on showing the new guy the ropes. Vision and Rhodey practiced aerial combat with him. Rhodey sometimes had tips for how to make sense of Tony's weirder design choices.

But before this, Tony had always been there, lurking in the background, ready to correct Rhodey that actually, that choice was deliberate and made perfect sense and wasn't just the result of a three day engineering binge in which more caffeine was had than sleep. Happy to turn aerial combat into a game of tag. On the sidelines of Peter's spars with advice that was equal parts helpful and distracting, until Natasha got fed up and kicked him out.

Tony had always been there, but for weeks now, he'd been missing. The thought that this was the new normal hurt worse than the healing wounds from the shrapnel.

—

But when Peter woke up in the infirmary in the middle of the night, it was to Tony's familiar tread walking up to the bed. He sighed softly. Peter kept his eyes closed, afraid to scare Tony off. There was the rustle of fabric, then Tony's fingers were brushing against Peter's forehead, pushing his hair back.

"What am I going to do with you?" Tony asked, voice low.

Tony withdrew, but Peter tracked his footsteps to the corner, where there was a visitor's chair. Peter slitted open his eyes in time to watch Tony settle himself. Tony's face was cast in shadow, but turned toward Peter.

It was at least an hour before Peter fell back asleep, but Tony stayed that whole time. When Peter woke in the morning, Tony was gone.

—

"Technically, you don't need a mentor anymore," Natasha said when Peter asked her about it later. They were in the upstairs kitchen. She'd made him tea. At least Peter was off bed rest now. "But if you did, yes, it wouldn't be Tony."

"Because he's done with me," Peter said, staring down at the Spider-Man blue mug in his hands.

"Because it wouldn't be appropriate," Natasha said.

"I don't see why it would make any difference." Peter took a sip of his herbal tea. It tasted terrible. "It's not like he's interested in the soulmate thing."

"Did he tell you that?" Natasha asked. Her expression was inscrutable.

"Not in so many words." Peter ran his fingers along the rim of his mug. "But actions speak louder and all that."

"I have been informed at length that I shouldn't interfere." Natasha dumped her own mug of tea in the sink. "But it might interest you to know that Tony has spent the last couple weeks holed up in the lab working on a new suit for you."

"That, uh, that would interest me, yes," Peter said.

Natasha stole his mug and pointedly dumped it in the sink, too. She raised her eyebrow as if to say, "Well? What are you still doing here?"  Then she actually said it.

Peter went.

—

The labs looked the same as ever. Tony was perched on a stool in front of a holographic. He didn't react to Peter letting himself in.

"If you're intending a big gesture, you should know I'm pretty happy with my current suit." Peter walked up to Tony's side and tapped at the new design. "I do like the new emblem." He turned to Tony. "But I'd rather you just talked to me."

Tony swiped at it, and the design disappeared. "It was going to be your birthday present, but I had a few minor kinks to iron out before it was ready. I was planning it long before—" Tony waved a hand vaguely, "—everything else. It's not a big gesture. It's something that was always going to be yours."

Peter looked down at Tony. His hair was a wreck, like he'd been running his hands through it. His lips were chapped. There were dark circles under his eyes. He was in jeans and a band shirt. He looked exhausted. His goatee was as neatly kept as ever, but everything else about him was a mess.

Peter wanted to kiss him. It wasn't new, was something he'd felt for years. Peter settled for standing a little closer. When Tony turned, his knee was pressed against the line of Peter's thigh.

"What do you want, Peter?" Tony's voice was tired. There was a furrow between his eyebrows. Peter wanted to touch it, to smooth it out.

"You already know the answer to that." Peter let himself reach out, put his hands on Tony's shoulders. "A better question would be: what do _you_ want?"

Tony closed his eyes. He admitted, "I don't know."

Peter let him go. "When you figure it out, let me know."

He took a step away, but Tony caught his wrist.

"Hey, did you—?" Tony swallowed. "Did you want to go over the new suit design, give me your thoughts?"

"Yeah." Peter smiled. "That sounds nice."

They went over the suit design. Tony watched Peter as he explored the new systems, the various features Tony had added. Peter could practically feel the weight of Tony's gaze. When he looked over, Tony didn't bother to hide it. He smiled ruefully, but he kept looking.

Peter looked back.

Tony sighed. He reached a hand out and, keeping his eyes on Peter, wiped the holographics away. "Okay, fine. Let's talk about it. Revisit our previous conversation."

Peter couldn't help the grin that stole over his face.

"Just talking." Tony held up his hand like he was worried Peter was going to take this one capitulation as an invitation to climb into his lap. He didn't need to worry. That stool was not made to hold two people.

"You already know where I stand."

"Way too close," Tony said, but when Peter tried to step back, he grabbed Peter's wrist again. "Look, I am … very bad at this. I cannot emphasize enough how terrible I am at anything approaching a reasonable, responsible relationship or how to maintain one. I don't any practical experience and I don't know if I have the temperament."

"You've been friends with Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes for decades," Peter pointed out. "You've—we've known each other for years."

"A, that's different, and you know it. B, that brings us to another reason this," Tony gestured between them with his free hand, "is a bad idea."

"That's not why you don't want to," Peter said with quiet confidence.

"I'm going to fuck it up," Tony said bluntly. His thumb stroked the skin of Peter's inner wrist. "It's what I do. And when that happens—" He finally looked away. "I don't want to lose you."

"So you'd rather cut me out before that can happen?" Peter didn't bother to hide the disbelief in his voice. "No offense, Mr. Stark, but that's really dumb. Like. Really, really dumb."

"When you put it that way," Tony said with a hint of self-deprecating humor. It slid off his face as quickly as it had appeared. "You need to understand. You were already important to me before—" Tony glanced at Peter's chest, swallowed. "Before." He met Peter's eyes again. "Adding in the soulmate thing? It's a lot. It's too much to put on one person."

"I'm pretty strong." Peter clasped a hand over Tony's. "I think I can carry it."

"You shouldn't have to," Tony said quietly.

"I want to." Peter wasn't going to climb into Tony's lap, but he moved in a little closer, standing between Tony's knees. "Can't we just try?" He leaned down, close enough that his hair brushed against Tony's forehead. "Please?"

"Don't make that face at me," Tony said.

"Or what?" Peter asked.

"Peter," Tony said. It was probably meant to be chiding. It sounded torn.

"Mr. Stark," Peter said. It was unrepentantly hopeful.

"You could at least call me Tony," Tony said.

"Tony," Peter said softly, and Tony made a sound low in the back of his throat.

Tony reached up with his free hand, tangled it in Peter's collar, and pulled him all the way in. Tony's beard was scratchy against Peter's face. His lips were dry, rough against Peter's own. He tasted like coffee left on the burner too long, bitter and burnt. It wasn't Peter's first kiss, but it was the best he'd ever had. Tony's hands migrated to Peter's jaw, callused thumbs stroking lightly at his cheeks. He pressed their mouths together again and again.

"Fine," Tony said finally. "You win. We can try."

All Peter wanted was a chance. He was confident that was all he'd need.

"So, um," Peter put his own hand on Tony's chest, drew light circles with the tips of his fingers over the cotton there, "do you think … ?"

Tony sighed, but it was almost a laugh. "Yeah, kid, you can see."

Tony stood and stripped off his shirt. The scars on his chest were familiar. Peter saw them in the mirror all the time. Somehow, they looked different on someone else's chest. Peter ran his fingers over them, felt the difference in texture between untouched skin and the scars. His own were flat, an approximation. Tony's had depth.

"No one ever taught you not to touch the dancers, huh, kid?"

"Hm?" Peter was absorbed in what he was doing. He looked up. Tony's expression was a mix of fond and deeply amused. "Sorry, what?"

"Nothing, never mind. Touch all you like."

Peter did. Tony stood there as Peter traced a starburst in his left pec. He shivered as Peter bent to kiss it. Peter pressed his lips against every inch of scarring, grateful for the chance to touch, for the chance to ground himself in the knowledge that life may have left its marks, but Tony was still here, had survived them all.

Tony placed a hand on Peter's head, stroked gently at his hair. "You know, I have some other scars—"

Peter snorted. "You know I know where every one of them is?"

"Maybe you could check. To be sure."

"What happened to not being an exhibitionist?" Peter asked.

"Out the window the second you started feeling up my chest." Tony crooked a smile. "I don't know if you've heard, but I'm kind of easy."

"There is nothing easy about you." Peter dropped one last kiss over Tony's heart before straightening. "But that's okay. I like a challenge."

"Good." Tony brushed a kiss against Peter's jaw. "I'm afraid I don't improve over time."

"Hard disagree." Peter smiled. "I think you only get better."

"What am I going to do with you?" Tony said, and it was softer than before, when he'd thought Peter was sleeping.

"Keep me," Peter said.

"Yeah, okay." Tony's lips grazed Peter's chin before meeting his mouth again. "I'll keep you."

—

The universe hadn't made a mistake. Tony was the best possible match for Peter. But if it had? If there had been someone else out there with matching scars? It wouldn't matter. Tony might have been Peter's soulmate, but he was also the person Peter chose, the one he'd keep choosing, the person who made him happy.

No matter how anyone else's story had played out, Peter was determined that this would be his happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: This story contains the obvious age gap, an attempt at self-scarrification at a young age, implied scarrification of children off-screen, canon-typical violence, a major non-permanent character injury, and references to a bunch of canon injuries.
> 
> If you liked this fic, you may also like [Uranium Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134583), which popped up during the time I've been waiting for collection open. It's a Peter/Tony soulmate AU with injury mark-sharing, identity porn, and sex pollen! It also has brief Pepper/Natasha, which made me laugh and wonder if the author and I tapped into the same part of the fandom hive mind. Recip, it could seriously fit your prompt, too, if you want to give it a try. It's a fun fic!


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